


A Safe Haven

by marthaandtheponds



Series: The Mind Is A Powerful Thing, But So Is Love [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1776328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marthaandtheponds/pseuds/marthaandtheponds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anastasia is targeted by a serial killer after her father's fortune, the BAU team is called in to take him down before he gets too close. While the team tries to profile and find the killer, Anastasia and Reid find themselves drawn to each other, sharing a connection that cannot be denied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Behind every great fortune there is a crime." -Honoré de Balzac

"Yes, make sure those ship by tonight, if we want to get these orders out, we need to have them by tomorrow." Anastasia moved around her office, looking at sketches and samples. "Thanks Marlene. Alright. Bye."

Sighing, she took out her Bluetooth headset and sat down at her desk. She looked around her office, making a mental note to send out a company wide memo about the late shipments.

She had a paper to finish writing, figures and reports to go over, and some creep to deal with.

Speaking of the devil, her phone began ringing once more. Hesitating over the phone, she took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?"

 _"I'm getting closer..."_ A gruff voice replied before hanging up. 

Anastasia began shaking slightly, not even realizing it.

"Ana? Where are you?" Her mother's voice floated up from the first level. She pushed the door open and took in her daughter's shaking form. 

"Was it him? Was it him again?" She asked, her voice frantic.

Anastasia snapped out of her trance and nodded. "Honestly, when is this guy going to give up? I don't even know what he wants." 

"What he wants is to get close to you. I think we need to call the police."

"Why? Why are we going to feed this guy's ego? It's fine." Anastasia rose, gathering up her things. "Let's just forget about it, okay?" 

Her mother didn't respond, so she turned to give her a look. "I'm fine mom. I swear. It's fine."

She locked up her office, a cold shiver traveling down her spine. She felt eyes on her, and she looked at the telephone. Taking a deep breath, she reentered, and disconnected the phone from the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay team, we've got a new case." JJ moved into the conference room, trailing agents behind her. "And this one needs to stay under the radar as much as possible."

"What happened?" Morgan asked, taking a file from Hotch.

"We got a call from Elizabeth Stanton earlier this morning. She claims her family is being harassed. More specifically, she claims that her daughter is being harassed."

"Slow down.  _Elizabeth Stanton_?" Blake said, disbelieving.

"Who's Elizabeth Stanton?" Reid asked, his eyes scanning the case files.

"Elizabeth Stanton and her husband, Richard Stanton are entrepreneurs. They own corporations all over the country. Elizabeth has been at the forefront of the technological revolution for a while now. Their estimated net worth is over 10 billion dollars." Blake explained, watching JJ.

"So, why are we being called in?" Morgan asked.

"This harassment bears a striking resemblance to a killing we saw nine years ago." JJ pulled up pictures of the case. "The girl, Marisa Gene, was about to come into a lot of money, much like Anastasia Stanton. The family received menacing phone calls also. The same thing occurred years ago, to two other girls. Once the money was theirs, he killed them."

"Any signs of torture?" Hotch asked.

"Plenty. Marks on their wrists and ankles show restraint, and their tox screens showed high levels of dimethylmercury. It's a lethal toxin, but its effects take months to manifest. It's a slow, agonizing torture. He kept them alive for two months, tortured them, and when they didn't give him what he wanted, he killed them, upping the dosage." JJ sighed. "But there are no signs of sexual assault."

"What exactly did he want?" Morgan asked. 

"Our best guess is that he wanted the money that they were getting, and they wouldn't give it up." JJ shook her head.

As the team looked at all of the pictures of the crime, they felt a pit of dread in their stomachs. 

"I want us up in the air in the next 30 minutes." Hotch rose from his seat and the team followed. Blake remained in her seat, still staring at the photos.

"You okay?" JJ asked.

"Anastasia Stanton is only 28 years old." She whispered. "She has her entire life ahead of her."

"And we're going to make sure it remains that way." JJ replied. "Come on."


	2. Taunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed.” -Michael Pritchard

Her sleep was restless, and her nightmares were plagued by a dark figure with evil eyes. He stalked over to her, and right when he gets close, she can see the small, sadistic smile on his face. "Am I close enough?"

She woke up screaming.

**************

"Elizabeth Stanton called the FBI directly. Why?" Reid asked as the jet flew to Southampton, New York.

"Possibly because she wants the highest and best people on the case." Morgan replied.

"She's a desperate mother with connections. Why wouldn't she go to the FBI?" Hotch said.

The plane was silent once more.

**************

The morning had come, and Anastasia hadn't slept for longer than a two hour stretch. Around seven in the morning, Anastasia pulled on her Harvard hoodie and went into her study. Since her parents had practically kidnapped her and forced her to stay with them while this creep terrorized them.

Putting her headphones in her ears, she focused on her board and her equations. Associates came and went around her, placing files on her desk.

The less she focused on this guy, the better.

  
*************  
"Mrs. Stanton? I'm agent Aaron Hotchner, this is my team, Agents Rossi, Jareau, Morgan, Blake, and Dr. Spencer Reid. May we come inside?"

Elizabeth nodded and moved aside, letting the agents in. "Would you like anything? Any drinks, anything to eat?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Stanton. Are your husband and daughter here?" JJ replied.

Mrs. Stanton ushered them into a living room with plush chairs and a stunning view of the ocean.

"Yes, Richard and Anastasia are doing what they do best, working and avoiding the world. I'll get them for you."

Morgan leaned over to Reid. "First impression?" He whispered.

"Nervous. She worries. Feels out of place in her own home." Reid whispered back, watching Mrs. Stanton rush up the stairs.

"Richard! Anastasia! Come down please!"

A few minutes passed before soft steps slowly began to come closer.

They had seen pictures of Richard Stanton before, but nothing could compare to the man in the flesh. He was tall, easily taller than Hotch, with piercing grey eyes amplified by a pair of designer glasses.

"Hello. Are you all a part of the FBI?" Contrary to his appearance, Richard was a soft spoken man.

"Yes we are. It's nice to meet you Mr. Stanton." Hotch said, rising to shake his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too." Richard replied, moving into the living area and taking a seat. Elizabeth followed, wringing her hands.

"Can you tell us a bit more about the man that has been harassing you?" Morgan asked the couple.

"I may not be the best one to talk about him. He never speaks to us."

"He never speaks to you?" Reid asked.

"No. Whenever we answer the phone, he waits, and then disconnects. We only hear him speak to Anastasia."

"Targeting her directly. He doesn't care about either of you." Reid mumbled.

"Is there any way we could speak to Anastasia?" Hotch asked once more.

"I called her down here, but she must not have heard me. She prefers being alone, especially since we've forced her to come stay with us. I'll take you to her. Follow me."

************************  
"Anastasia?" Elizabeth pushed the door open slightly, peering into the room.

She let the rest of the group in, moving toward her daughter slowly.

Anastasia was sitting with her back to them, wearing a crimson hoodie with the hood on. Cross legged, she was looking at a board in front of her. There were numbers and graphs all over the board, and every once in a while, she would turn her head to look at the board to its right.

"Anastasia?" Elizabeth called, coming closer to her.

There was no response.

Elizabeth placed her hand on Anastasia's shoulder, rubbing it.

Screaming, Anastasia leapt from her seat, whirling around. Her headphones clattered to the ground, along with various pens and pencils.

There were a few moments of silence before Richard broke the ice.

"Ana, these are a few agents from the FBI. They're here to talk about the phone calls you've been receiving."

Anastasia turned to her mother, eyebrows raised. "You called the FBI?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms defiantly. "What was I supposed to do? Just let this continue?"

Anastasia rubbed her face, groaning slightly. "Okay." She finally turned to the agents. "I'm sorry, you must have thought I was ignoring you."

"No problem," Hotch pointed to Reid, "he does the same thing."

Anastasia nodded and smiled.

"Could you tell us about the caller?"

"Um, yeah. He ca-"

The phone began blaring, interrupting her. "Should I...?" She asked the agents.

JJ looked over at Elizabeth. "Can you bring in another phone? That way we can hear what she hears."

Mrs. Stanton ran out of the room and returned with another home phone.

"Okay, you can answer it." Alex nodded at Anastasia.

"Hello?"

_"I see the FBI has gotten involved. This is going to be fun. They haven't caught me before, why would they catch me now? I'm going to get closer to you, Anastasia. I am going to get so close that you suffocate. And I am going to make you suffer."_

Involuntarily, Anastasia began shaking all over again.

_"You see, this is what makes you different from the others. I am going to break you before I reach you. And then when I do finally reach you, you'll find peace."_

The line disconnected, leaving a stunned group of agents and one truly terrified girl.

"Okay. I'm bringing in Garcia. We need the whole team here, and we need to put an end to the guy, once and for all."

"This has happened before?" Anastasia asked, tears streaming down her face.

"At least three times, that we know of." Morgan said.

Anastasia pushed herself off of the couch and excused herself, wiping away tears.

"Anastasia!"

"Let her go, Mrs. Stanton. Let her process." Hotch said quietly.

"I'll talk to her." Reid said, following her out of the room.

"You will?" Morgan asked incredulously, but Reid was already gone.


	3. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Money can't buy friends, but it can get you a better class of enemy." -Spike Milligan

Anastasia pulled open the French doors and escaped to the balcony, gasping for air. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm her reeling stomach. If she had just told her father to leave the money to a charity, or just to leave it in a trust, or to leave it to his _grandchildren_ for goodness sakes, this wouldn't be happening.

"Self abuse is the most certain road to the grave." Reid said as he opened the door.

Anastasia jumped slightly, not hearing him follow her.

"Sorry if I startled you." He mentally slapped himself for walking up behind a girl that was getting stalked. 

Anastasia shook her head. "It's fine." The crack in her voice made Reid's heart shrink.

"The statistical probability of getting killed by a serial killer is less than five percent."

Anastasia turned and gave him a funny look. "And... I'm lucky enough to be a part of that five percent?"

"I don't believe in luck. It's merely probability versus accuracy."

A small chuckle escaped her lips. "That's how I run my companies. Probability versus accuracy."

Reid nodded. "The best way, as far as I am concerned."

They were quiet for a while until Anastasia sighed deeply.

"I think I'm ready to go back in."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She made her way past him, and smiled. "Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anastasia returned, and answered the questions they asked with no further worries.

Reid stood back, watching her until Morgan came to stand near him.

"How'd you do it?" He kept his voice low.

"Sometimes... All they need is to forget that they're a victim." Reid looked up at Morgan. "To remember that they're still human. Not a face we're trying to get off of our desk, not a figment of someone's fixation, but a human."

Anastasia ran her fingers through her hair as she nodded in response to Hotch's question.

Reid watched her closely. Her right foot kept bouncing, but not erratically, like most people's. 

He counted each time. Four taps.

Then he noticed her father's right hand, draped over the end of the couch. He was tapping the couch the same way Anastasia was, four times.

*************

"Reid, Morgan, and Blake, I need you to do a complete victimology of this family. Find out why the killer is targeting them. It goes deeper than the money." Reid and Morgan nodded, setting out to search the entire house.

"Garcia, I'll put you on tracking the phone calls when we get another one, but I need you to figure out a link between all of these girls."

"Besides the money, sir?"

"Besides the money."

"JJ, Rossi, you guys will come with me, we need to review all of the previous cases." Hotch finished giving orders and turned to the family.

"I want nothing in your daily routine to change. The taunting, harassing phone calls are what he is feeding off of. Do what you normally do."

Elizabeth nodded, and picked up her purse. "I'm late for afternoon tea with the girls."

"I have a few more board meetings to get to, before the actual transaction."

"Make sure not to talk about him. If he's stalking Anastasia, he's stalking you."

"What will you do?" Richard asked his daughter before he left.

"Shower and get back to work." She responded.

He pulled her into a bear hug, before kissing the top of her head.

"That's my girl."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They seem like the perfect family." Morgan noted, looking at the pictures perfectly placed in the house.

"Everything in order. Celebratory photographs front and center, calling attention to them. Family photographs in places that the eye gravitates to next." Blake agreed.

"All of the pictures have Anastasia in the center, no matter the occasion." Reid blurted. He picked up a photo of the grand opening of Stanton incorporated.

"She's the center of their lives. Not unusual for an only child." Morgan added. "Nothing here screams, 'unhappy family'."

"There's got to be a reason why this guy is going after them." Blake sighed.

"Maybe we need to look deeper. Appearances can be deceiving." Reid set the photo down and moved to another room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The last victims have been: Jane Reiling, in 1987, Hannah Mountach, in 1996, and Marisa Gene, in 2005." JJ laid their pictures out on the table.

"Nine years between each murder." Rossi commented.

"He must use that time to stalk them, get to know their habits." Hotch added.

"Like I said on the plane, obvious signs of torture, but no evidence of sexual assault. It seems his M.O. is to subdue them with chloroform, tie them up, and torture them. It seems like the drugging comes later."

Garcia came in from the dining room. "Guys, all of these girls could not be more different. Jane Reiling? Her father worked in oil. She kept a low profile, and dreamed of becoming a playwright.

"Hannah Mountach? Her father worked in the music industry, he founded four record companies, and partnered with Disney. She was an equestrian, wanted to be ballerina, and kept as far away from her father's companies as possible. Apparently when she got the money, she was going to give it all to charity.

"Marisa Gene? Her father worked in energy. As far as these reports go, Marisa was a party girl, hardcore drinking and drugs. She was going to buy herself a yacht when she got the money, and go yacht racing.

"Anastasia Stanton?" Garcia shook her head. "Anastasia Stanton is... Just look."

"Her father is an entrepreneur. She has followed in his footsteps, opening three companies of her own. Doesn't drink, doesn't party, and apparently really likes school. Or at least Harvard. Got her undergraduate there, then went back for three PhDs; accounting, business economics, and marketing. She then went to Eton college for business administration, and then to Oxford for another two PhDs, in law and Genetics."

"Those last two don't really go along with the other degrees she got." JJ remarked. "Not that it's not impressive."

"According to this article, she was bored, so she went back to school." Garcia shook her head. "They have virtually no connection."

"But this isn't random. You don't randomly target four heiresses. There's more. There's got to be." Rossi rubbed his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was warm as I headed out of my car. I waited, watching as the woman thanked a cashier and made her way to her car.

Marian West.

The gun was heavy in my hands, but I steeled myself. This was the part I enjoyed. 

I would have to hurry back to her house, I want to get the full effect of her shock, her pain.

"Excuse me?" I called. 

Foolish woman. How did you fall for that?

"Can you tell me where I can find a hotel?" 

She has a kind face. Bright brown eyes. It's a shame she has to die to prove my point.

"Yes! There's one down the block here, I can take you to it, if you'd like."

The parking lot is deserted, no one is out.

"Thank you, Marian." I respond.

"You're welcome! Wait how-" Her question is silenced as she falls to the ground. One clean shot in the heart. 

I smile. Leaning in, I dip my pinky in the bullethole. The leather will make it difficult to write, but I will manage.

_"Closer."_


	4. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand." ~ Henri Nouwen

"Guys? We've got bad news." JJ said as she hung up her phone. 

The team made their way back into the front room, where they had set up. 

"What happened?" Hotch asked.

"They found a body. Down on Evenson Street."

"Does it have anything to do with our Unsub?" Morgan asked.

"Yep. There was a message written in the victim's blood. Closer." JJ replied.

"Shortened message. No time to waste, or maybe not wasting their time on victims that aren't Anastasia." Reid answered.

"I'm leaning toward the latter. Who was the victim?" Blake asked.

"Marian West. She was 52. Widowed, with an adult son. She was a nanny for a family that lives in New York City, they had given her a week off since they were going on a vacation." JJ said.

"What's her connection to the Stantons?" Morgan asked as he went through the files.

"Ah, glad you asked. To you Garcia." JJ turned to her.

"Marian West was a nanny for the family from 1985 to early 1990, when she abruptly quit her job and left the family. Apparently Anastasia was very attached, the family tried rehiring her four times, to no avail." Garcia said. "She hasn't seen the family in over two decades."

"Did she cite a reason for her sudden departure?" Reid asked.

"She said that 'she could no longer stand the atmosphere' and that the family 'needed to stop using her as a crutch.'"

"We need to go tell Anastasia what happened. Reid, you got her to calm down last time, think you're up to this one?" Hotch asked him.

"Uh, yeah. I think so." Reid pushed himself up and went out to see Anastasia. He spun around and put the file back on the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sorry, Anastasia. I know you were attached." Reid said sympathetically.

"I haven't seen her since I was four. Attachment tends to fade after over two decades." Anastasia rose and went over to her desk. "Did she have any kids?"

"Yes, one son."

"Do you think I could contact him? I want to help him with everything. Since it's my fault anyway." Anastasia kept her head down.

"Of course. Are you sure that you're alright?"

"Yeah." She drew out the word, keeping her back to Reid. "Thank you for letting me know." 

"Of course." He hesitated in the doorway for just a moment before he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She okay?" Morgan asked Reid as he reentered the room. 

"No." Reid replied, taking his seat.

The team went silent.

"You said she's  _not_ okay?" Rossi asked.

"Would you be, if your nanny just got killed by a serial killer?" Reid replied, giving JJ a look.

"Well, why isn't someone comforting her?" Blake asked.

"Because I don't want to be comforted." Anastasia said as she passed by the agents. "Could I have the information about her next of kin? I want to give it to Marie as soon as possible; they shouldn't have to deal with this all on their own."

"Marie?" Hotch asked.

"My assistant." She replied from the kitchen. Coming back into the room, she took a sip of orange juice. "Is it okay if I go into my office today? I've been cooped up in here for a while, and I want to get out-"

The phone began blaring, and Anastasia froze. 

"Garcia, begin tracking that phone, now. Anastasia, when Garcia gives you the signal, answer the phone." Hotch commanded. "Put it on speaker." 

Anastasia slowly began to thaw, and slowly made her way to the phone. 

"Whenever you're ready, Ms. Stanton." Garcia called out.

"Hello?" Anastasia whispered.

_"Not the reaction I was hoping for. Maybe I just have to try harder next time. And yes, agents, there will be a next time. Oh!_ _This will be our game!_ _I get close to you, you get close to me. Maybe you'll even end up enjoying it as much as I am."_

The line went dead.


	5. Profile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend." ~Aristotle

"So, I'm guessing that's a no on leaving the house?" Anastasia said, slowly placing the phone back down. The agents watched her carefully. She took a deep breath and worked on steadying her hands. 

"I'm sorry." Hotch shook his head.

"That's alright. I can always bring the company here... if that's okay?" Anastasia looked around the room hopefully. The agents looked at each other.

"That may not be... the best idea." Blake said.

"I need  _something_." Anastasia pleaded. The cracks in her armor were beginning to show, and Reid knew there was more damage underneath it. "Please. If I don't focus on anything else, I'm going to implode with worry." 

Reid noticed her wring her hands before crossing her arms. He watched her index finger tap four steady beats before relaxing for a few moments.

"Maybe not your  _entire_ company, but a few background checked employees can come in." Hotch relented. "Since the Unsub knows we're here anyway, we should pull out all the stops."

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you." Anastasia dropped her arms and took a deep breath. "And you only have to check one person. Nicolette Thompson."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright. Let's nail down a profile of this guy and start figuring out connections." Hotch told the team.

"Based on the timeline, nine years between each murder, this is an incredibly patient man, and by now he is in his mid to late forties." Blake explained.

"Mission oriented, and when he doesn't achieve what he wants he ups the dosage, killing them instantaneously." Morgan added.

"This compound is very difficult to get a hold of, and is extremely toxic. Our Unsub has to be smart, and have a place to put these these types of things." Rossi said.

"He must be exposed to poison on a regular basis, since the only traces of the chemical were inside the body, and not anywhere else." Reid contributed. "The first murder occurred in 1987, but the high toxicity of dimethylmercury was not known until 1997, when Karen Wetterhahn died after spilling just a few drops of the poison on her glove. Her death took less than a year."

"So he's using a diluted version to torture them, and a more potent form to kill them?" Morgan asked.

"Well, what exactly does dimethylmercury do?" Rossi asked Reid.

"Dimethylmercury is a type of mercury, so the main problem is mercury poisoning. This form is one of the most potent neurotoxins known to man. It's a cumulative poison, and by the time its effects are known, it's already too late to cure."

"Garcia? Any connections you can find?" Hotch called.

"None sir."

"Maybe we should go see the Reilings or the Mountachs? They might be able to shed some more light on what happened." JJ said.

"That's a good plan." Morgan rose and went over to Garcia. "Baby girl, we're going to need the most recent contacts for the Reiling family and the Mountach family."

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks." Garcia replied. "We are in luck. The Mountach family lives in Westchester, about two and a half hours from here."

"Okay, JJ, Rossi, and I will head down there. Garcia, you give them a call and let them know we're coming. Morgan, Blake, and Reid, let us know what you find for victimology.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "I never did think we had fully put it to rest. I never thought..." Denise Mountach, a small woman in her late fifties, rubbed her hand over her face. "Hannah was our only child. Her murder... It took something out of us. James has never been the same."

Denise shifted. "I finally called it what it is. A murder." She rubbed her face again. "Sometimes, late at night, I think of what we could have had. She was going to be married, you know. It was a few months away around the time that she died. I was going to be a mother in law, and hopefully a grandmother.

"Agents, I will tell you anything that you want to know, just please... Make sure this doesn't happen to someone else's child."

"Thank you, Mrs. Mountach." Hotch nodded. 

"Mrs. Mountach, was there anyone you knew of that may have wanted to hurt your daughter?" JJ asked.

"Look around, sweetheart. There's a Monet over the piano, a Picasso behind you, we paid over ten thousand euros for this rug on our monthly trip to France. There are millions of people in this world that would have wanted to hurt my daughter. I just never thought any of them could come close."

"Was Hannah acting strangely the last time you saw her?" Rossi asked.

"No, she was her same old cheery self. She and Frank had just made their honeymoon reservations, and she could not stop talking about it. We went out to lunch that day, just the two of us, and then she said she had to finish her wedding planning, and that she'd see me at dinner. Gave me a kiss, and left the restaurant."

"She wasn't at all worried about the phone calls?"

"I'm sorry, Agent Hotchner, but what phone calls are you talking about?"


	6. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My heart might be bruised, but it will recover and become capable of seeing beauty of life once more. It's happened before, it will happen again, I'm sure. When someone leaves, it's because someone else is about to arrive--I'll find love again." -Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

"Okay. Thanks Hotch." Morgan ended the call and turned back to the agents. "Hotch said that none of the other families received phone calls."

"So what makes Anastasia so special?" Blake asked, eyeing the room.

"No idea." Reid murmured. He narrowed his eyes at the mantle of the fireplace, spying a picture hidden behind the others.

He reached for it, careful not to move any of the photos.

Anastasia was smiling brightly, with her hand clasped around a tall, blue eyed man, who's smile was just as bright. Next to them were Richard and Elizabeth Stanton. 

"Guys look." Reid turned back to the others. "This picture was hidden behind the others on this mantle, but they look relatively happy. Why would they hide it?"

Morgan came over and looked at the photo. He took it from Reid's hands, and flipped it over. 

_Mediterranean, 2009. Newly engaged Ana and Henry!!_

Morgan pulled out his phone and dialed Hotch.

"Hotch. Didn't you say that Hannah's mother said that she was getting married before she got killed? Well we just found this photo at the Stanton house. Get this: Anastasia was engaged."

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reid tentatively knocked on Anastasia's closed door, opening it slightly.

"Come in." 

As he pushed open the door, he saw notes scribbled all over the boards. Anastasia stood with her back to the door, absentmindedly chewing on the end of a dry erase marker.

"Anastasia? Can I ask you a couple more questions?" 

"Go for it." She said, turning her head slightly, still focusing on the board. Her friend Nicolette was at her desk, absorbed in a phone call.

"I know this may be difficult, but could you tell me about Henry?"

Anastasia's shoulders fell slightly. "Henry? What does he have to do with this?" 

"We believe that there may be a connection between you and the other victims. Hannah Mountach was also engaged when she was killed."

Anastasia turned to face Reid. "I'm not engaged anymore." 

"You're not?"

"I haven't been engaged for over four years." Anastasia finally faced Reid. "Where did you find that?"

"It was on the mantle of the fireplace. It was hidden behind some other photos, which means that it's hard for your parents to look at, but they still want it there for sentimental value. How did he die?"

Nicolette rose from the desk, her phone call apparently boring her. "Ana? Do you want me here?" 

"If you want to stay, you can stay." Anastasia turned back to her board. "Plane crash. 2010. Him, his father, and his brother all died. And before you go on about foul play, just know that there was none. Just a freak accident."

"Thanks." Reid turned on his heel and left the room, the environment so much heavier than before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What have you got for us Baby Girl?" Morgan asked as he came around the dining table to stand behind Garcia.

"Plenty. And perhaps even a man to give you a run for your money." She smirked. 

"Henry LaValle, born August 10th, 1984, father was Pierre LaValle, mother is Genevieve LaValle, brother was Alexandre LaValle. Was in his sophomore year of his undergraduate at Harvard when he met Anastasia Stanton, and it looks like they were inseparable from then on. They were happily engaged in 2009, as you already know, and he was made the head of his father's tire company in January of 2010. He died eleven days after his birthday in that same year."

"Any connection to the other victims?" Reid asked her.

"Glad you asked. Like I said before, there is absolutely nothing that connects these girls to each other, and nothing that connects Henry to them, but, when you look closer it becomes so clear."

Garcia pulled up the photos of the last three victims.

"Jane Reiling was enagaged to her boyfriend of nearly seven years, Marty Alloyt. Hannah Mountach was engaged to Frank Silversteen, a doctor, and Marisa Gene was engaged to Party Boi."

"Party Boi?" Morgan raised his eyebrows.

"Real name, Nigel Gilpin. But nevermind that. What gets really interesting is when you look at the boy's life after the girls were kidnapped and killed. Marty Alloyt, who would avoid going outdoors for an reason whatsoever, was found dead on a hiking trail, with the coroners ruling it accidental. Frank Silversteen, who had never been an adventurer, suddenly found himself going skydiving. And his parachute wouldn't open. Again, it was ruled accidental. Then there's Party Boi. In a freak electrical accident at the club he was DJing at, he got the shock of his life and died in the hospital three days later; but get this: he was already making substantial recovery and was due to be released three days later." _  
_

"So he's finishing off both halves of the couple?" Morgan shook his head.

"Yep. But in Anastasia's case..."

"He can't. Because her fiance is already dead."

"Bingo."

"So he can't get the satisfaction of taking them both out, so he reverts to torturing her more than the others in order to get the full satisfaction of his kills. Baby Girl, you are a genius. I'll call Hotch."

"So all of the girls were engaged, happily, I presume?" Reid asked Garcia.

"Right you are. From what I can see here, the families adored each other, no bad blood. They spared no expense for their children's weddings, five tiered cakes, fancy engagement announcements, the best venues-"

"None of them were getting married in the same place, were they?" 

Garcia's fingers flew over her keyboard. "Finding that out right... now." Morgan reentered, and came back to his post behind Garcia. 

"No... but I think I have found something else. All of the families took out engagement announcements in The New York Times, and the couples were all photographed by the same company, Emily Reifs Photography. Sending everyone addresses now."


	7. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any fool can know. The point is to understand.” -Albert Einstein

"Emily Fields? FBI. Open up." Morgan pounded on the door of her studio.

A slightly frazzled woman pulled open the door, a camera around her neck. "Yes? Can I help you?" 

"FBI. Can we come in?" Morgan pushed past her.

"I have to head to a shoot, will this take long?" Emily asked, pulling her hair up into a bun. 

"It depends on how much you wish to cooperate, Ms. Fields." Hotch looked around the studio, still set up the way her last client wanted.

"Do you remember Jane Reiling?" Rossi asked her gently.

"Jane Reiling? Do you happen to know what pictures I shot of her? I've been in this business for so long, they all get jumbled up in my mind."

"Engagement photos. You should remember her. She was murdered in 1987." Morgan snapped.

Emily was taken aback. "You don't actually think that my photos had anything to do with that, do you?"

"So you do remember her?" Hotch asked.

"Well, 1987 was the year I really took off." Emily snapped. "But her shoot was altogether forgettable, she and her fiance were easy to handle, and their family paid well. Is that all?"

"We still have a few questions for you." Morgan pressed on, pulling out a photo of Anastasia."Do you happen to know this woman?"

"You're kidding, right?" Emily took the photo from him. "Of course I know her. Everyone knows her. She's practically the god of all entrepreneurs everywhere. And yes, I did shoot for her. Four years ago. Her and Henry." She handed the photo back to Morgan. "Is _that_ all?"

"What about Hannah Mountach? And Marisa Gene? Did you shoot their engagement photos too?" 

Emily squinted at the agents. "I don't remember Hannah that well. She must have been like Jane. Forgettable. Now, Marisa Gene I do remember. She was one of the worst divas I have ever had to deal with. I almost didn't feel bad when she was murdered." Emily spat bitterly. "Now, is that all? I have more work to do."

"Yeah. You're free to go." Hotch said. The agents made their way out. 

"What did you think?" Rossi asked as they piled into the car. 

"I thought she was awfully defensive, and as of right now, she's our only lead. Morgan, call Garcia and get her to look deeper into Emily Field." Hotch said as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I also think that she knows more than she let on."

"How so?" 

"The public was never told that Marisa Gene's death was a murder. It was classified as accidental."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Anastasia?" Reid knocked on the door, waiting for her muffled reply before pushing it open slightly. 

She spun around in her chair, facing him with a wry smile. "They only send you to ask me questions. Why is that?" The Harvard hoodie was discarded, revealing a athletic tank top, and her hair was pulled up into a ponytail.

Reid was taken aback.

"Just a question." She put her pen down and laced her fingers together. "What do you need to know about now?" 

"Well, we think we found a connection, so we wanted to take you back to four years ago. Back when you and Henry were getting your engagement photos taken."

Anastasia nodded slowly, her eyes getting glazed and distant. He had seen that look before. He'd had that look before too. 

"I'm sorry. I know this is very difficult for you. But we really need to find out who's doing this; we don't want this to happen to anyone else." 

"I'm sorry." Reid shifted uncomfortably.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "No, I'm fine. What are the questions?" 

He hesitated, gauging her reaction for a few moments.

"It's okay. I don't mind." Anastasia forced a smile.

"Will you be more comfortable if-"

"Nothing will make this more comfortable." She rubbed the back of her neck and gestured to the couch next to her desk. "I just want to get it over with."

Reid cleared his throat and nodded, taking a seat. He warred with himself before finally deciding to throw propriety out the window. She had shut down again, and he knew he wasn't going to get much more out of her if she remained this way.

"It's only fair that if I expose you, you expose me."

Anastasia couldn't stop the interest that crept onto her face. "What exactly are you suggesting, Dr. Reid?"

Absentmindedly, Reid noted how much he liked her smile. "I guess I'm suggesting that, psychologically, people-"

"Feel a sense of security when they can share their feelings. It creates the illusion that the person they are talking to is not going to harm them." She finished.

"Exactly." He cleared his throat. "You can ask first." She nodded slowly, as though she was sorting through her memory for a question.

"What," She asked, "is her name?"

Spencer stiffened. "Who's name?"

Anastasia narrowed her eyes. "I thought we were agreeing to be exposed. I know when people have lost someone important. So," she spun around, facing the boards again. "what's her name?"

Her impenetrable logic both impressed and terrified Reid. _She probably has that effect on everyone._ He thought as he watched her spin back to face him, her face a passive mask, a small smile on her face.

"Maeve. Maeve Donovan." He whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

Anastasia nodded. "Pretty name. Irish, right?"

Reid nodded.

"All right, your turn."

"What do you remember about Emily Fields?"

"Fragile. A bit short tempered. Generally easy to be around, though I got the feeling that her and her assistant didn't like me." She shrugged. "I didn't really notice much about her out of the ordinary."

"Anythi-"

Anastasia raised her eyebrows at him when he started speaking again.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." She tapped her chin, trying to think of something good to ask him. "What are your doctorates in?"

"Math, Engineering, and Chemistry." He felt just a bit prideful when he told her this, noting the impressed glint in her eyes. "What are yours in?"

"Do you really expect me to believe you don't already know them?" She snorted.

"Do you think I don't know that you looked us all up?" Reid countered.

Anastasia nodded slowly. "Can you blame me for being paranoid?"

"Is this the only thing that you've been paranoid about?" He set the case file down next to him and waited for her to answer.

"What do you mean by that, Doctor?" Anastasia crossed her arms across her chest.

"Do you really believe that Henry's death was just a freak accident?"

It was Anastasia's turn to stiffen.

"Do we ever believe that a loved one's death is 'just an accident'? We always believe that someone is at fault somehow."

"Could Emily Fields have killed your fiance?"

"No." Her voice was blunt.

"Did you ever consider the possibility?" Reid continued.

"No."

"How much did your family pay her?"

"Do you think that she did it?" Anastasia countered.

"I don't know what I think."

"Even if she did, what would have been her motive?"

"Hatred? Most of the time, the people that we catch don't exactly have motives."

"Something tells me that you really don't believe this."

"It's extremely unprecedented. Female serial killers are rare, but she's patient, cold, and truly has no reason."

"I don't believe it. I should, because she fits, but I can't." Anastasia went over to sit down next to Reid on the couch, handing him the case file. He took it gently, and looked into Anastasia's tired green eyes. She'd been through more than she was willing to divulge. His mother would say that her eyes housed a thousand demons.

"How was she killed?" Her voice was a whisper, and for the first time, she sounded unsure. "Maeve."

"She, um, she was shot in the head." He looked away from her, the unhealed wound reopening.

Anastasia let go of the file, lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." He stood and went to her door. He wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, but they'd been there for three days, and nothing more than this connection had showed up. Pulling it open, he left, refusing to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly edited from the earlier version.


End file.
